


Sarcasm Isn't My Only Defense

by PhoenixQueen578912



Series: SupernaturalStiles [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Jealous Derek, Jealous Stiles, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mutual Pining, Pack Bonding, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-03-04 15:12:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixQueen578912/pseuds/PhoenixQueen578912
Summary: Stiles discovers he has supernatural powers and must now simultaneously run away from the CIA and figure out what is going on with him. He reunites with Derek along the wayI do not own the characters.





	1. Prologue

If being chased by the CIA in the middle of the night down a dark alleyway was part of my plan, I probably wouldn’t be so out of breath. My feet slip on the slick rain-soaked brick beneath me. Behind me, flashlights wave in the dark trying to find me. I’m exhausted. As I round the corner, I can hear the new, fresh out of camp agents falling farther and farther behind. I can hear their panting from yards away. They have never ran away or at something before. That fancy treadmill or drills could never compete with real deal. They are out of luck. I know this town. I grew up here.


	2. Done Messed Up

CIA training missions were nothing compared to the jacked-up things I have had to deal with. From murderous grandpas to a literal demon possessing my body, these missions didn’t scare as much as the supernatural world of terror did. This fake city made from pieces of plywood had been set up in one of the large warehouses in the academy. Holding a fake gun, I kick down the door to one of the “houses” and search the room. These houses are the most unrealistic thing I have ever seen. A single chair and a box. What kind of messed up person only has a chair and a box in their living room? I continue through house to the next room, guarding my back. The next room is dark. Shadows dance on the walls, showing that someone else is here. The shapes moved slowly towards me. I kept close to the wall, avoiding the only light source in the room: a small lamp on another random box. 

I know who this person is by their blind arrogance and loud footsteps. Trevor is the kind of person who came out of the womb with a suit on. He is a standard man with a baritone voice that drips with arrogance. I step slowly up to him, each foot carefully place to not make any noise. Quietly I placed the end of the gun at the nape of his neck.

“Gotcha,” I whispered. The warehouse lights come back on and Trevor turns around to glare at me. I smirk and lower the plastic gun. 

“You weren't supposed to see me,” He says, his mouth curling up at the edges in anger.

“Then watch the light source, genius,” I say. He scowls. 

“Return to the dormitories for the night.” a monotone voice echoes from above conveniently interrupting the time I was probably going to be beat up. I turn immediately around and exit the fake city. To think that my time in Virginia is almost over is incomprehensible. It seems almost a day ago I was helping my friends take down a lady with serious judgement issues. If only you could have put that on your resume.  
After dropping my gun into the bin near the exit of the warehouse I head outside. The entire place is surrounded by an insane amount of trees. The only thing shielding the academy from the outside world is the canopy of green. That, and the hundreds of security cameras that are no doubt across the grounds. It makes me homesick. Of course, this forest isn’t filled with dark creatures and werewolves and all the things that go bump in the night. The dormitories only cover a small portion of the school and look like college dorms for the outside. However, I highly doubt any college would have high tech and unreasonably competitive students. The ground level of the dorms is what some would call a common area, but let’s be real here, it’s really more like a room overrun with testosterone. I scan my ID card on the scanner. The light flashes green and I enter the building.  
“Hey Stiles.” I am greeted by a group of textbook bullies.

“Heyyyy, people who have never spoken to me before.” I say gaining looks of annoyance.

“How do you do it?” one of them asks.

“How do I do what. You have to be more specific than that.”

“He means, why does it seem like you already have field experience?” Shit. I guess I haven't been as stealthy as I thought. 

“I don't?” I say slowly backing away towards my room away from the gang of muscle men. 

The group slowly disperses with sighs of disappointment. What were they expecting? War stories? Oh yeah, I’m definitely an undercover spy student. My room is at the end of the hall. When I enter, an unsettled feeling overcomes me. Everything in the room seems off kilter like the moment in the horror movie before the action happens. Instead of investigating, I plop down on my bed and grab my phone from the bedside table simultaneously turning off the lights. I didn't realize I was so tired. 

I wake up to the sound of my doorknob jiggling. A hooded figure opens the door using the dark as a shield. Their footsteps silently grew closer as I lay paralyzed in my bed. I can't move my hands.The assalient is standing over the foot of my bed an eight inch knife holding an eight inch knife above my body. My heartbeat increases rapidly as sweat is dripping from the base of my neck down my spine. My breath is the loudest thing in the room. And the knife comes down gliding through the air quickly into my chest.

My alarm wakes me from my nightmare, gasping. My clothes stick to my body as I try to shake the dream from my mind. Adrenaline pumps through my brain as I stare into the utter darkness to the background of the ringing of my alarm. Its moments like this that make me miss home. Beacon Hills: the town carved into rolling hills at the center at the most messed up, supernatural situations. In spite of my melancholy mood, I smirk slightly at the shenanigans I had been through. I swing my legs over the edge of my bed and stand up quickly. My room was plain. The same standard furniture was in every room. However, I didn’t choose the room for the furniture, I chose it for the view. Out my window, there was a tree stump so familiar it almost felt like home. I grab my uniform from the floor and head into my bathroom, my toes curling in protest at the cold tile. After setting my clothes on the counter, I step into the shower. As soon as I turn the dial, nearly scalding water envelopes me. The anxiety melts from my body as the steam fogs up the room.  
After being in the shower for almost too long, I step out of the shower and dress. With shoes on, book bag packed, and keys grabbed after searching for them for far too long, I head downstairs.  
“Hey, Stiles.” Dammit, not again. I turn my head to face the newest oddball bully to only come face to face with one of my professors. 

“Hello, Dr. Holden. How are you?” I ask, politely as ever. 

“Good. Good. How have you been doing?” He smiles.

“I’ve been doing well.” I ask. What did he want me to say? Oh yeah, I've actually been pretty bad because this is the longest I’ve gone without a supernatural disaster.

“Heading to training?” He asks.

“Yup, good old physical exercise.” I say while making my way for the door. The moment the doors slam behind me I begin to run. I can’t be late again. 

I arrive at the training rooms with 15 minutes to spare. In the past, running for that long would have left me panting, but after training with these humongous neanderthals I’ve become slightly less out of shape. Said neanderthals were already lifting weights and running laps. Trevor is with a huge group of them. Most of them had an insane amount of muscles stretched out over their thin bodies. Trevor looks up. He makes eye contact with me over the loud banter of his friends. His friends continue to make a conversation made mostly of jokes made of other’s expense. Slowly, they turn their heads to see what Trevor is staring at until every last one of them has their eyes on me. I stand there, shifting one foot to the other.  
Oh, fuck it. I turn my back to them and place my bag and sit down on the bleachers, planning on spending my extra time studying. Arming myself with a mechanical pencil and highlighter , I dive into my notes on the history of the CIA. I block out the world and focus on the words that my brain refused to digest. I’m almost through with a paragraph when an object smacks me in the arm. It doesn’t hurt, just causes a dull ache that will surely hurt more tomorrow. I look up while rubbing my arm. Trevor sits laughing with his forehead-sloped friends.The offending object is a medicine ball from the rack suspiciously close to where Trevor is sitting. I ignore the obvious start to an inevitable Jackson-esque situation. However, when I refocus on my textbook another ball hits me in the head, the back of my head hits the top of the bleacher behind me. Black spots dance in my vision for a couple seconds as I blink wildly. 

“Is something wrong, Stiles?” Trevor asks, as he magically appears in front of me.

“Actually, yeah. For some reason the gym is raining medicine balls.” I say. This was the wrong thing to say.

“You know, I’m kinda tired of you mouth for someone who came from a nothing family in an nothing town,” Trevor says as his mouth curls into a malicious smile.

“You don't know anything about me,” I say.

“Really? Cause I heard your dad is a failing sheriff.” he says.

“And I heard that the only reason your here is that your daddy is the director of the CIA.” Again, the absolute wrong thing to say. Trevor slams his fist into my face causing a waterfall of blood to flow from my nose. I clutch my nose as he shoves me down onto the floor. My hands curl into my sides as a tingling sensation wraps around my hands. The air around me electrifies as I throw my hands over my head to protect myself from the incoming assault. 

The pain doesn’t come. I slowly raise my head. Brilliant ribbons of white and purple surround me in form of a shield. Their jagged bolts emit strong amounts of energy that have everyone's hair standing up on it own. Everyone stares at me. I stand slowly, and look down at the palms of my hands. My fingertips give off sparks of white that encircle my hand protectively. 

“What the actual…” I begin. My sentence is interrupted by the quiet but recognizable click of a gun. My eyes scan the room for the weapon, only to find myself staring at Dr. Holden a small gun in his hands pointed at my chest. My focus darts to the door. There was a 0% chance that I could make it out that door. 

I run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is Chapter 1. Chapter 2 will be coming soon.


	3. Foresty Adventures

I have a really bad habit of running into the forest. The forest enveloped me the moment I entered with the men at my tail. They followed me from Virginia to Texas to Mexico. And from Mexico into a forest. The trees get larger the farther I run into the green. I glance behind me as I run. Three CIA soldiers follow me with larger than necessary guns. They climb over the branches slowly, trying to aim, trying to be stealthy. I jerk to the left and cut in between two trees. The canopy above me gives away in a small clearing, where moonlight streaks down illuminating me. The three soldiers emerge from the brush and I begin to back up. 

“Woah, guys. Maybe we can work this out.” I say, raising my hands in surrender. No response. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t finish at the CIA. I would’ve had to become a stoic nightmare. I turn my hands slightly and the sweet smell of decaying plant matter and the rain still clinging to leaves fills the air. The breeze picks up as vines crawl out of the earth, quickly, and wrap themselves around around the soldier’s feet, who are too busy aiming at me. I flick my thumb slightly, and the vines tighten their grip and throw the soldiers into the greenery behind them. Maybe that was a little too rough…

One of the soldiers begins to reach for his gun, and I turn around quickly and continue sprinting through the forest. A shot crackles through the air and hits the tree behind me. Another shot rings out right after the latter, the onslaught continues as I run. A sudden pain pierces through my arm. I look down as blood begins to soak through my sleeve dripping onto the forest floor. I cradle my arm with my left hand and try to continue running. But the pain is ebbing away at my energy. I’m slowing down. To my right, I see something out of my peripheral vision. A dark gray wolf is running on my right through the brush. I can barely see it through the breaks in the green. It’s getting closer. Even in the half light, there was no mistaking the blue eyes. Another bullet comes flying by my head. I whip my head around to see the soldier directly behind me, aiming for another shot. This time I feel nothing but pain as my left leg collapses beneath me. I hiss in pain as my vision goes blurry. The soldier walks over to me and aims their gun at my heart, finger on the trigger. A loud growl came from behind me as the wolf jumped from a small cliff of rocks onto the soldier. It ripped through the person’s neck with its jagged teeth. Blood dripped from it’s mouth as it turned its head to look at me. It inched closer to me closing the incredibly small distance. I can’t move. The wolf’s teeth bare back to reveal it’s blood stained teeth. It snarls and leaps.

I hear the scream before I register that I’m not dead. The wolf has sunk its teeth into the leg of another soldier. It locks its jaws. The man is screaming in pain. He falls to the ground clutching at his leg, and the wolf takes the advantage to latch onto the man’s neck, silencing his screams. My vision is growing increasingly blurry. The canopy of green above me blurs into black. I blink wildly. Nausea settles in my stomach as the wolf’s face appears above mine. The wolf looks me in the eyes and tilts his head. My breaths turn shallow. My ears are filled with a pounding noise. My world’s focus begins to ebb around the edges before fading completely to black. 

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The next few days are blurry. I’m in and out of consciousness. When I wake up, I’m in a cabin. When I’m asleep, I’m in my nightmares. When I’m awake, someone is tending to my wounds. 

I finally wake up fully today. I open my eyes and observe the room I’m in. All the walls are unfinished wood. The kitchen is across from my view. A man is cooking, with his back to me. He looks so familiar: black hair, tall, and unreasonably muscly. The man glances at me over his shoulder and makes eye contact with me. Derek. His eyes widen slightly when he notices I’m awake. He turns around fully. 

“Stiles.”

“Sourwolf.” He snarls slightly at the nickname. 

“Was it you earlier? With the soldiers?” I ask.

“Yes,” He says and pours a liquid from a pot into a glass. He walk around the makeshift island in the middle of the room and stands at the end of the bed. The bed I’m in isn’t uncomfortable. There is a green comforter covering me and a soft pillow underneath my head. He walks over to where my head is resting and places his hands on my shoulders.

“You need to sit up,” He says rather forcibly. 

“Okay, okay,”I try to sit up and am immediately greeted with pain shooting throughout my body. I flinch in pain, but Derek uses his hands to push me into a sitting position regardless of my protests.

“What the hell, man?!” I say. Derek just places the glass of some sort of juice in my hand. 

“Drink.” I bring the glass to my lips, and try to to cringe at the sour taste.

“What was that disgusting liquid?” I ask once I have downed the glass.

“Healing potion for supernatural,” Derek responds.

“Yeah? And there is only one problem with that sourwolf, I’m not supernatural!” I respond.

“Really, Stiles. So what happened with the vines?” Derek asks.

“Shit, you saw that?” I respond.

“Yes,” He says, tilting his head slightly.

“ I don’t know. It just happened one day,” I say.

“We need to get you to a druid,” He says, turning around to place the glass I hadn’t notice him grab in the sink. He rinses it out and places it on a drying rack. I don’t respond. His eyes meet mine over the counter. He raises his eyebrows slightly.

"Yes, Stiles?” He asks.

“Is this where you have been?” I say softly.

“Yes?” 

“Just wondering,”I say as I shift more comfortably in the bed while avoiding eye contact. I missed him. I never thought I would miss the grumpy werewolf, but I did. Even now, with him across the room, there is some sort of longing lingering. It’s downright torture. 

“Stiles,” Derek says tearing my away from my thoughts. The annoyance on his face shows this isn’t the first time he has asks. I look at him. “Are you in any pain?”  
As if his words reminded my of the pain, it comes back full force. I tried to keep the grimace off my face.

“No,” I say through partially clench teeth. The pain climbs up my leg, burning everything in its path. 

“You’re a terrible liar, Stiles,” He says, running over to me and sits on the edge of the bed. Hurriedly, he places his hands over mine. The pain alleviates as soon as it began. I peel open my eyes. When had I closed them? I watched the veins of black climb up Derek’s arm. He took my pain calmly.

“Thanks,” I say. He sighs and relaxes more onto the bed. With the pain gone, I’m suddenly tired all over again. My eyes flutter as sleep begins to take me once more.  
The phone rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another chapter. I will try to update more regularly now.


	4. A Day of Discovery

   I watch quietly as Derek reaches for his phone. He pulls it up to his ear and speaks in a language I didn't even know existed. It isn't Spanish, or French, or anything I’ve ever heard  The syllables string together into words that sound like a song. The voice on the over end is female and quiet. I can't make out what they are saying. Derek says one last word in response before ending he call and setting the phone down on the counter. He looks over at me.

   “The druid will be here in an hour to test you.”He says.

   “Test me for what? A dormant werewolf gene?” I ask.

  “No werewolf could have done what you did.” He said vaguely. I sigh in response. He rolls his eyes at me and walks over to a cabinet. I watch as he opens the cabinet and remove a golden box. Derek turns back towards me and hold up the box.

  “She’s going to test you with this.” He says.

  “...The druid is going to test me with a wannabe Pandora box?” I say. Derek rolls his eyes yet again but walks over and places the box in my hands. It was surprisingly warm to the touch. Before, the box had seemed to be one solid box, but up close, intricate designs were carved into the box showing an images of people. One of the people seemed to be holding fire in their hand while another has lightning sparking out of their fingertips weaving into a storm. I turn the box slightly. On another side is an image of a person win vines wrapping around him like medusa’s snakes. Derek puts his finger on that one. 

  “That's what I think you are.” He says while tracing the words below the figure.

  “And that is…” I say extending put the is.

  “A nature mage.” I flashback to the vines I had used to fight off the soldiers.

  “Because of the vines?” 

  “Yes.”

  “But I’ve used lightning too.” Derek’s eyes widen slightly.

  “Show me.” 

  “I don't know if I can do it again.” I hesitate.

  “Try.” He says gently. I close my eyes and think back to that day. The anger over the insults, the fear over what could happen. And the sharp pain. I can feel the electricity of the room as it began to raise the hair on my arms. 

  “Stiles.” I hear Derek whisper. I open my eyes. This time, the lightning is white with purple streaks. It curls around my hand. I reach out win my other hand to touch it, but the lightning dies out. I look up at Derek. Blood has drained from his face. He looks scared. Scared of me.

  “Derek?”

  “That's not possible. Not possible.” He doesn't seem to hear me. He's caught in his own panic. His hands slowly shift to show claws.

  “Derek!” I raise my voice slightly. He breaks from his trance and turns his head to look at me.

  “Stiles. That, you, shouldn't be possible.” He’s breathing heavily. 

  “Well, clearly it’s possible, since I exist.” I say. Derek opens his mouth to answer me when there is a knock on the door. We both turn to stare at the door. Derek takes a deep breath and slowly walks over to the door and opens it. 

  A woman stands on the other end. Her gaze is sharp and alert as she scans the room. When she sees me, her eyes tighten at the edges. Her mouth remains a straight line painted red. She walks briskly into the room. 

  “Thanks for coming.” Derek says.

  “Save your politeness for another time, Derek. Is this him?” She snaps.

  “Yes.” Derek answers. She walks over to me and picks up the box from my hands. The box begins to glow a blinding light. I flinch. The light stops.

  “You saw that?” She asks.

  “Yeah?” I say. She seems to make some sort of mental note in her head. She hold the box again. This time a ringing noise emets from the box. It pierces my ears and my head starts to complain. I slap my hands over my ears.

  “And you heard that.” It wasn’t a question. She grabs places the box on top of a try and pulls from her bag two sticks. Concentrated. She places the sticks on either side of the box.

  “Hold your hands over the box.” She orders. I obey. As soon as I begin to hover my hands over the sticks, they curl inward torwars the box. They seem to fuse to the box itself. I jerk my hands away. The woman doesn’t comment as she then pulls out a piece of coal and places it on top of the box and instructs me to place me hands over it. The moment I do, the entire thing bursts into flames. Derek flinches. I pull my hands away. 

  “You were right to call me, Derek. He  _ is  _ a mage,” she says quietly.

  “I’m a what?” I ask. My brain short circuits. I had heard that term before in one of the books I had read. Mage. A magical person. There were different types, with their own specialties.

  “Which type am I?” I ask. The women seems surprised, but only for a second.

  "I don't know.” Behind her, Derek looks shocked.

  “Stiles never showed any signs.” Derek said while staring at me. The women casually pick her bag off the floor. 

  “It's possible he has remained dormant until now.” she says. 

  “So I'm a mage? What do I do now? Go to Hogwarts?” I ask. The druid turns around to glare at me. She rolls her eyes and opens her bag and pulls put a book. She tosses it at me. 

  “Read this. And if there's no more questions?,” she scans the room. Derek nor I respond, “Good. I’m leaving.” She whips around dramatically and leaves without turning around.

  “Bye, Eleuia,”Derek says quietly after the door shuts behind her. The room is quiet. We stare at each other from across the room. This day has been my weirdest yet. I'm a mage. I'm a mage. I’m a motherfucking mage. I'm still not sure what that means.

  Derek suddenly turns and walks out the back door and slams the door behind him. I'm alone. I stare down at the book in my lap. It's covered in violet leather and sprawling rune-like symbols. I reach out to trace one of them. The symbol vibrates when I touch it, sending electricity through my fingers. 

  “Ah!” I yell into the empty room as the book falls from the bed onto the floor. My finger is left with a tingling feeling. I reach down slowly for the book and wrap my fingers around the spine. I place the book in my lap and close my eyes. Quickly I flip the book open and brace for an impact, any impact. Nothing. My eyes blink back open to look at the the pages. They are browned with age and covered in handwriting. It isn't in English or Spanish, but for some reason the language is familiar. I tilted my head slightly and pulled the book closer to my face. The words pulled me in twisting my brain. The symbols and letters shifted and moved places across the page forming legible words. I try to peel my eyes away but the book has a vice-like grip on my mind, pulling me into some sort of trance. I can feel a trail of blood drip from my nose and onto my lips. My eyes burn. 

  I’m not at the cabin. I’m not anywhere. It’s misty, like a fog. I stretch my arm out in front of me and watch my hand disappear in the thick fog. I walk forward slowly.

  “Hello?” I say into the open air. Great, Stiles ,just say what everyone says right before they get murdered. There's no answer, but through the fog I can see a shape forming in front of me. I rush forward, running. My foot hits wood and I look up. The fog is gone, completely gone. I rotate around in a circle, shuffling my feet, and look around me. I’m in the middle of a plaza, surrounded by shops, and the sun high in the air. But there's no people. The brick walkways spiral out into an unknown city but there's no people here. My unease grows and a shiver runs up my spine. Where is everyone? It’s a city, but a devoid of the warmth and happiness that comes with a lively city. It reminds me of the ghost town.  In the distance, I can see buildings falling, crumbling. As they fall, clouds of dust are thrown up into the air, blocking the sun from view. The building keep falling one by one. I try to run, but my feet seem to be frozen. I pull and pull at my own legs trying to run. My fingers began to twitch as the buildings around me begin to fall. I clap my hands over my ears as as a building beside me crumbles. My face stings as flying bits of rock hit my face. The crashing continues, wave after wave of crumbling buildings. I don’t know how long the noise lasts, but when it stops I don’t look up. Its when I hear the footsteps that I steal a glance. A woman walks slowly in my direction. 

  “Who are you?” she asks. Her voice booms and I clap my hands over my ears. She repeats her question.

  “S..tiles.” I say, while trying to block out the piercing sound of her voice. 

  “Wrong answer,” She said. Not the answer?  That’s my name. What else could she want?

  “I’m a mage?” She smiles. It’s not a kind smile, almost malicious, “Yes, you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Yes, it is I. Leave constructive criticism if you want. I honestly don't know where I'm going with this story. let me know if you want to see something in particular. - Cat


	5. What could be a drug trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that I have not updated in 2 and 1/2 months. I promise I will continue updating from now on. If I don't I give you permission to yell at me in the comments until I do. For now enjoy this chapter. Let me know how you like the story so far. Constructive criticism is always welcome. :)

I couldn’t stand the cabin anymore. Not with Stiles being a mage. How had I not known? I’d been around him in Beacon Hills, and yet, I had no idea. It's terrible. Awful. Then why do I feel so relieved? A crush is such a childish word. I hate it. But the feeling whenever I see Stiles, the reason I left, is still undeniably there. The crush isn’t the reason I left, more of what the consequences could bring. Stiles couldn’t have been my mate. He’s human. But now, he’s supernatural, and a possibility. I smile and look back to the cabin, and realize I’ve wandered too far into the forest to see it. When did it become night time? The darkness and stars have completely overrun the sky. I should head back.   
The cabin still has it’s light on when I enter. Of course, Stiles is incapable of turning them off. A sense of guilt pierces my heart as I realize I left Stiles, injured, because I couldn't handle the news. I close my hand around the handle and take a deep breath in, and snarl. The scent of blood is potent in the air. I almost kick the door down and enter. Stiles is holding the book the mage gave him in his hands while tendrils of magic flow from his fingertips while his nose is dripping blood. He doesn’t seem to notice, in fact, he seems to be in a trance. He’s staring down at the book, not moving, speaking, or even fidgeting. I run over and smack the book out of his hands. It tumbles to the floor, face down and the magic stops. I look up at Stiles. He blinks up at me slowly.   
“Derek? What happened?” His voice is soft. His eyes are clouded and he’s blinking rapidly. I’m about to respond when he slumps down. I reach forward to catch him from falling off the bed. I carefully lay him back down on the bed. He’s pale and his eyes seem to have sunken down, surrounded with a rim of shadows. I reach down into my pocket to pull out my phone, but hesitate. Calling the mage wouldn't be the most helpful, especially because she wasn’t so helpful the first time. I listen closely for his heartbeat.   
His heartbeat drummed steadily along with his breathing. I sigh and slump down onto the floor, my hands still wrapped around one of Stiles. I’m going to be in for a long night.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The woman is eerily quiet. Her footsteps glide on the crumbled pavement without a single crunch. Maybe she’s a supernatural. Or maybe, I’m just having a really screwed up dream? Both are possibilities. We’ve been walking for a while now across the destroyed landscape. The sky has turned this awful greenish color that makes my stomach turn. My hands fidget with the edge of my shirt, pulling the soft fabric.   
“So. Are we going somewhere or…” She doesn’t respond. I’m just following a creepy witch lady around a crumbled city that she apparently single-handedly destroyed. I’m so smart. The debris is everywhere. With every step, I kick up more dust. Up ahead, the crumpled remains of a hopefully abandoned civilisation gain way to a cliff. Witch-lady seems to be walking straight towards it. Ragged rocks cover the surface of the cliff. Vines climb down the exterior into the deep blue ocean below. The witch-lady turns around the face me.  
“Jump,” she said.  
“Oh hell no. I am not jumping off a cliff.” I respond, backing away from the edge.   
“Jump.” Her voice echos. Bellow me, the ground begins to vibrate. Bits of rock are shaking. The wind picks up. Cracks appeared in the ground beneath me. I try to run, but a giant gash in the earth opens up. The next wave of vibrations send me into the dirt. My heart hammered in my chest. The world spins around me as I scramble for my feet and look over at the witch-lady. She’s gone. I run over to the edge of the cliff, scanning the edge for her, but she is nowhere to be seen. I stare down at the water. The water is a deep blue, dark, and angry. It crashes against the rocks again and again, white peaks forming. There’s no telling how deep it is. Or what’s inside. I jump.  
The water is cold. I dive deep into the water until the last bits of light are gone. Rocks and stone rain down into the water from up above, forcing me to go deeper. Down in water, my senses are truly muddled. I can’t see. My ears pop from the increasing pressure. As the pressure increases, the water feels heavier. I feel weighed down as if there are weights attached to me feet. It’s getting harder and harder to keep swimming down. I keep swimming down, ignoring my lungs desperate cries for air. I have no choice. I am alone. My brain screaming at me to go up for air, but up there I would surely die, although, without air, I will die down here too. I can’t see anything except a light slowly shining through the water surrounding. It’s refreshing to see light after being in the dark for so long. Was it that long? I kick my feet rapidly behind me and reach for the light. I’m almost there. My fingertips graze the light. I keep swimming forward until my entire body is completely wrapped in warm light. My lungs can no longer hold. I gasp for air, expecting to breath in water, waiting for the salty taste of death. But it doesn’t come. Instead, I get air tasting only slightly of salt, what could almost be a breeze touching my face. I open my eyes. I’m no longer underwater. I am floating on a calm sea. The waves only rock me a little. I look out into the ocean to see a small island in front of me. With heavy arms, I begin to swim to shore. Am I even alive? It doesn’t feel like it. My body burns as I move. But this is a different kind of exhaustion. It’s not just my body that is pushed to the brink, but also my mind. I want to go home, to Beacon Hills. To lay in my bed and sleep until my dad yells at me to wake up. To sleep until the sun rises and sets. I want to sleep forever. Even as I crawled up onto the beach, I could easily be mistaken for a zombie. The sand is wet and cool compared to how hot I feel. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind sleeping right here, but I will myself to get up with a groan. My legs protest as I stand. Using mostly my arms, I climb my way up the sandbank on my hands and knees to see behind it.   
There is a small house in the middle of the entire island. It’s squat figure droops low into the ground, weathered by the sea storms. It’s made of wood that's splintered and worn from centuries. There isn’t a door. Just a small opening at what is the front of the house. There’s a person sitting in front of the house. Their silver hair covers most of their face. They sit in a worn chair reading a book. I lean forward to look closer, but get a facefull of sand instead. I roll down the sandbank into an undignified pile of limbs.   
“Hello. Can I help you?” A woman stands over me with her hands on her hips, book still in one hand.  
“Yes. I seem to have become Alice in Wonderland and would like a way to go back up the rabbit hole.” I say while pulling myself back up to my feet. She doesn’t look amused.  
“Why are you here?” She asks.  
“I followed a crazy-witch lady who then disappeared before making a earthquake throw me off a cliff into water where I somehow landed here?” The more I explain what has happened to me the more crazy I feel. I’m insane. I have to be crazy. Maybe I’m in Eichen House and this is all a dream? I just need to wake up?  
“Do you want some tea?”   
“Huh?” I ask. That was not the response I thought I was going to get.   
“Do you want some tea?” she asks again, less patiently this time.  
“Uh. sure?” I say. I follow her inside the house. Inside, it’s remarkably well furnished for a house in the middle of a deserted island. There is stuff everywhere. Books, papers, lanterns, rugs, chairs, and a cat? She walks over to a kettle sitting on top of a old-fashioned stove.  
“You read the book didn’t you?” She asked.  
“What book?” I ask.  
“Nevermind. You won’t remember until you wake up.” Wake up? I didn’t know I was dreaming. She reaches down into a cupboard and pulls out a green mug with a chipped rim. She grabs the kettle from the stove and carefully pours the tea into the mug. She hands the mug to me. My fingers burn as I grip the mug with both hands.   
“So you’re the next one.” She muses.  
“Sorry?” I ask.  
“Sorry. You wouldn’t understand that either. I’ll start at the beginning. You're a mage. There are mages that still live on this Earth, don’t think you are the only one. However, you are the only nature mage currently.” she says this so matter of factually I almost forget what she is saying is insane.   
“I’m sorry, but what the actual f*ck are you talking about?” I ask.  
“You’re mother was the last nature mage, and honestly, I thought that the bloodline died with her. I would advise talking to your father, he probably knows something.” She continues, “The book will help you control your powers more until you can on your own. Any questions?”  
“I’m dreaming?” I ask. There weren’t a lot of questions on my mind anymore, just confusion.  
“In some ways, yes. In other ways, no.” She responded. Great, more helpful answers.  
“So, how do I wake up?” I say, placing the mug down on one of the many coffee tables in the house.  
“Easy, you just wake up.” Her words sent my world into a spinning mess. The world around me melted away slowly.   
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Stiles? Can you hear me? I need you to wake up. We’ve got to move.” There’s a gently weight on my hand. My eyelids are closed and weighed down. I focus all my energy on my hand, trying to move a finger, even a pinky. I feel my hand twitch slightly.  
“Stiles?” Derek asks. I peel my eyes open, ignoring my body’s clear protests. I’m blink rapidly at the bright light filling the room. How long had I been out?  
“Hey, Sourwolf.” I force the words out of my throat through the burning sensation. Derek scowls at the words.  
“The first words out of your mouth in three days and I’m already annoyed.” He says.  
“Hold the imaginary phone! It’s been three days?” I yelp.   
“Yes.” Derek answers.   
“I’ve been passed out for three days? And you didn’t think to call someone?” I yell and immediately flinch. My throat is completely dry.  
“Are you okay?” Derek asks. I nod.  
“Water,” I croak. Derek immediately heads into the kitchen and quickly fills a glass with water. He rushes back over to me. I guzzle the water quickly.   
“What do you think I should have said? My friend went into a coma after reading a magical book?” Derek says after I set down the empty glass.  
“Why didn’t you call the druid?” I almost-yell.  
“Because she’s the person who gave you the book in the first place!” Derek voice raises slightly. At this point I know I should stay silent. Derek doesn’t get angry like normal people. He stay stoic, but it’s the tiny details that show his anger. Claws slowly unfurling, eyes showing an underlying glow of blue, and ears slightly transformed. But he doesn’t look like that. He looks worried? I don’t know. I have never seen him look this way before. We’re just staring at each other. It’s been way too long, how long has it been? It’s getting so awkward, too awkward. I can’t take it.   
A sudden crash breaks our standoff. Glass shatters onto the floor as a hissing cylinder hits the ground.   
“Get down!” Derek yells. He grabs the bomb and throws it out the window it came in from. I hesitantly place my feet onto the ground and wobble into balance. Derek looks back at me, eyes glowing.  
“Can you run?” He asks.  
“I don’t really have a choice.” I said in response. Derek sighs. He grabs the edge of the bed and yanks it aside. Underneath the bed, there is a wooden hatch in the flooring. “You werewolves and your underground pathways.” Derek glares at me. He yanks open the trap door revealing a ladder.  
“Get in.” He said.  
“What’s down there?” I ask. Derek looks at me. He is about to respond when a shower of bullets rain down on the cabin. Derek snarls and phases more.   
“Just go!” Derek half snarls-half growls at me. I look down at the ladder once more before jumping into the tunnel.   
I am immediately plunged into darkness. The ladder is old. It creaks as I climb down into the darkness. My feet hit the bottom with a suspicious crunch. My eyes take a few moments to adjust to the lack of lighting, but when I look around, I realize I’m not missing much. The only hint of light comes from a small lantern hanging from the wall. The tunnel is small. If I stretch out I could probably touch each end with my hands, but I don’t think I want to. The entire place is covered in grime and dust. Up ahead the tunnel snakes around so I can’t see the end. I’m about to begin walking further into the tunnel when I hear the hatch reopen. Derek jumps down into the tunnels, dust billowing up as he lands. He then rips the ladder from its place. He turns to look at me.   
“We need to go now.” He says. The next thing I know I’m running. My legs burn almost immediately from my previous injuries, I’m gasping for air. Derek shoots me a glance from the side.  
“Can you run?” He asks.  
“I kinda have to! Don’t I?” My words come out between each rasping breath. The tunnel just keeps going and going. I see no end. Actually, I can’t see anything. I’m just running and hoping I don’t run into any walls. Suddenly a hand grabs the back of my shirt and yanks me in another direction. I yelp and claw at the hand.   
“Stiles. Stiles. Stop. Stiles. STILES!” Derek growls at me and I finally look around at my surroundings. I’m in a cavern. Water drips from stalagmites pooling into the center of the cavern where a small pond lies. It’s ankle deep and filled with deep blue water.  
“Where am I?” I ask looking around to see where we came in.  
“The tunnel is magic. It leads you to the nearest safe location.” Derek responds.  
“And we’re gonna stay here? Forever?” I say, panic rising in my stomach.  
“No. We’re going back to Beacon Hills.”


End file.
